Transit
by Esseo
Summary: A short game. I didnt want to lose it. Sorry, Tro.


heavycharms10/20/2018

Of all places to see Heero Yuy again, Trowa never would have bet on this dingy, little airport somewhere South of nowhere. Yet here they are, making brief sideways glances across a sparsely populated terminal, not quite pretending not to notice one another, but being unable to be anything but discreet in the public sphere.

'Never draw attention,' Trowa thinks, rueful but still amused, not only at himself but also at Heero, whose own nature seems no less ingrained. Today though, Trowa's feeling a bit contradictory, and with the beginnings of a smirk, decides to beckon. But as subtly as he starts to raise his arm, he drops it back into his lap, unceremoniously ducking his head to hide behind his long bangs.

It had taken just that one movement to turn Trowa away as it's the only way to mask the grimace that threatens to break across his face. The sling hastily shoved under his jacket isn't so much hidden as subtle, but it's certainly accountable for his stiff movements, and now, his resumed attempt at ennui. Whatever damage has been done is still recent enough to sting, though the extent of it is near impossible to assess against the caution that has been taken to minimize the appearance of it. It annoys him though, and that much is clear.

Trowa almost doesn't bother to glance up again, but the novelty of seeing Heero after so long causes him to dare, even if only as brief assessing glance that Heero hadn't fully registered the jilted action. To his further annoyance, he accidentally meets the other man's gaze, blatant and unmistakable. He purses his lips, brows knitting, then when presented with a lack of other options, shrugs it off as if to say 'it happens.'

Somehow, he feels like that might be more of a beckon than any purposeful gesture would be. Who knows though, when it comes to Heero Yuy. More bold now, Trowa watches and waits, curious to see what Heero will do, though in some recoup of amusement he imagines the other man just getting on his flight and flying away. (That might just be wishful thinking though.)

Self-destruct10/21/2018

Heero has retained his stillness. It's always been a liability; making him stand out rather than blend in, but he's retained it anyhow. It's a part of him that runs deeper than his training. Even amidst the benign setting of an airport, he seems exempt from time's flow. Strangers occasionally pass behind and in front of him, but they fail to alter his state of being. Heero keeps the same position with his eyes locked on the same target.

Trowa Barton.

He was spotted first; a lonesome familiarity with overgrown bangs. He's tucked into a puffy jacket that mocks his slender face. The acrobat's legs are so long that they nearly fold beneath his plastic chair. They look like straws adorned by shoes. There's a very slim man under that coat - A man that feels it's necessary to hold himself while despondently watching the nearest clock. Heero can't spot any luggage.

Eventually, their eyes lock. He's caught. A brief staring match ensues. It would be fine to remain across the isle. It would be fine to board a plane and pretend they'd never crossed paths. Heero knows this and still, he decides to make contact. His eyes close briefly as the weight of his chest shadows his compliant knees. The motion of standing always looks heavy for Heero Yuy, but he crosses the linoleum as if he was born to do it. His shoes confidently cut through the distance between them, slicing squares of reflected florescence, until he reaches a neighboring seat.

heavycharms10/21/2018

So Heero's decided the path of more resistance. Trowa watches him as he rises and crosses the airport, eyes tracking him all the way until Heero takes the seat besides himself. The circumstances being as they are prevent Trowa from being too surprised this is where they've ended up, but he can't help but curious in what pushed Heero in his direction.

He greets the other man with a simple nod, before his gaze travels back out into the terminal. Words don't escape him, as much as they were never really there for him to pull from in the first place. Luckily, Heero isn't the chatty type. Trowa figures when one of them has something to say, they'll speak, and not a moment before.

It might be a very quiet afternoon.

Self-destruct10/25/2018

It is quiet for five, ten...possibly fifteen, minutes. It's not a span of silence permitted to most comrades, but Trowa allows it to happen. He is capable of tranquility. It seems like such a simple skill, but Heero has never found it to be a common one. People always have to declare something or be somewhere. They are beings of perpetual motion.

And noise.

So, when Heero speaks, his tone is soft and even. He does not gesture. He does not abide by the typical 'How are you?' or 'Where have you been?' Instead, he keeps his eyes on the same space his companion is studying and murmurs an unfortunate truth. "It's rough out there."

Self-destruct10/25/2018

He knows. Even though he's clad in a probably-expensive-suit with a thin black tie, he doesn't look completely adjusted. His shoes have been polished, but his hair is still wild. His eyes still don't catch the light like they should. The former pilot tilts his attention back Trowa- or rather, Trowa's concealed sling. Heero reaches to pinch his ally's coat open. Just a little. Just enough to reveal the situation.

heavycharms10/25/2018

"It's rough everywhere," Trowa responds, though Heero's seemingly off-handed comment is enough to bring his attention back to the other man with a wry amusement.

His gaze tracks up and down Heero's form, the overly formal attire eliciting a raise of his brow, but nothing more. When a hand reaches out for his jacket. Trowa doesn't even so much as flinch at the gesture, just patiently watches and waits for Heero's reaction. There's not too much to learn from a sling after all; nothing to hint at the broken clavicle, or the fractured shoulder -though the obscurity of the situation certainly isn't what fuels Trowa's patience. If there's anyone he can count on to not make a big deal out of nothing, it's Heero Yuy. The thought is strangely comforting.

Self-destruct10/26/2018

Trowa's sling doesn't answer the where, whens and hows of his injury, but spying it helps Heero give information back. The boyish pluck to reveal it's entirety is a statement. So is his considerate attempt to lay the jacket back in it's original position. 'I know your secret, but I won't give it away.' He doesn't make any eye-contact during or after his inspection, because doing so would communicate a question or an accusation. Instead, he withdraws from both his ally and his chair.

He takes one step before freezing like a man who's forgotten his wallet. That's not it, of course. Instead of frantically patting down his pockets, as such men are known to do, Heero serenely glances back at his companion. "I'm going to get us some coffee." He's getting better at that; announcing his intentions, even if the courtesy tends to be an afterthought.

He leaves Trowa to commune with a crowd of empty airport seats. Beyond them, looms a massive black window. The glass will never realize its likeness to obsidian because the night beyond its barrier has been interrupted by a blizzard. White flecks spindle by like constant confetti. It's been that way for hours now. Snow is piling up outside to clamor down the tops of boots and make the roads slick. It has also done an excellent job of delaying flights. The clock on the wall reads 00:37.

heavycharms10/29/2018

Heero's departure may be abrupt, but it isn't exactly surprising to Trowa. He appreciates the offer of coffee nevertheless.

Rubbing his palms together, Trowa surveys the terminal in Heero's absence. There isn't much activity by now. Between the hour, the location, and the storm, what feeble crowd there could have been has seemingly disperse to warmer and more welcoming locations. The local motels are probably seeing much more business than they're accustom to. Trowa half wonders if they should join them, but it's a fleeting thought. He's ready to leave at first opportunity.

When Heero returns, is when Trowa finally glances up again, giving the other man a single nod of thanks before accepting the coffee, wrapping long fingers around the cup, and taking a moment to enjoy the warmth. Once again, it seems time to break the silence but Trowa murmurs nothing more than a simple 'thanks.'

Self-destruct10/29/2018

"Yeah." Heero takes a sip from his cup. It's got to burn. The heat from Trowa's twin beverage is still seeping through its confines; all too eager to bite his fingertips. But Heero doesn't make any mention of pain. He's too busy scanning the terminal - perhaps having a few of the same thoughts. Their haven has become very empty...and very quiet.

"What time was your flight?"

heavycharms10/29/2018

"A few hours ago," Trowa says with private amusement.

He had no desire to get on that flight anyways, so in some ways, the storm had done him a favor. Not that spending the night in this airport was ideal, but it was better than a lot of places he could be right now. Maybe he just needed some time to think before his next departure. Stretching his legs out before him, Trowa sips again in contemplation before he shrugs at Heero.

"What about you?"

Self-destruct10/29/2018

"Twenty-one hundred."

He surrenders back to his seat and blankly stares out over a scape of scuffed linoleum. Heero's cup lifts to his lips again, but this time, there's a slight hesitation before he commits to drinking. When he follows through, his mouth puckers against the bitter-hot aftermath of his decision.

"They've all gone down." The likeness of that is slim, so maybe it's a joke. Maybe, it's just the way Heero thinks, brought to light by an absent mumble. Delayed flight? Everyone is dead.

heavycharms10/29/2018

Trowa's gaze flickers back to the window, and he snorts. Nihilism never bothered him much.

"I hope you don't have somewhere to be then," he says, nonchalantly sipping still.

Self-destruct10/29/2018

"No place important. My mission ended yesterday." His 'shift' ended yesterday. There are no missions left, but he's made the term into a habit and hardly seems to notice it's incongruity.

heavycharms10/29/2018

"Mission?"

One of Trowa's brows arches. He has an inkling Heero hasn't use the term in the tradition sense, but then again, it's been awhile since they've seen each other. He really has no idea what the other man has been up to.

A careful moment passes before he decides to pursue the topic. It's not like they were going anywhere anytime soon. He turns slightly, (and carefully) in his seat to give Heero more of his attention.

"Didn't know you still did those."

Self-destruct10/30/2018

"Not...like before." Heero keeps his eyes locked on an empty row of seats ahead of them. He prefers to speak to an abandoned chair, rather than into the face of a friend.

"The Sanc Kingdom was awarded all of OZ's confidential files. Turns out, the organization had collected dirt on just about every political figure you can imagine. The Foreign Minister has decided to deliver each file to it's rightful owner in an effort to build trust."

Another taste is taken from his paper cup. He glances down as it lowers; studies the tiny puddle of coffee he can never seem to get out of it's plastic lid. "I fly out, deliver the file. They call the Foreign Minister to thank her...and a partnership is formed."

heavycharms10/30/2018

"One man's blackmail is another's goodwill gesture," Trowa says, with no more involvement than shallow amusement.

He didn't have the head for politics, so he tried to stay out of it all. There wasn't much someone like him could offer anyways...well, until the next conflict broke out.

Trowa shifts in his chair, looks down at his cup and shrugs.

"So you've been on Earth."

Self-destruct10/30/2018

"Yes." He echoes, "I've been on earth." It's mostly true. He leaves often, but always returns to the blue planet, to a routine, to Relena. The conversation dies again. Its difficult to summon small talk. Heero can give what is necessary; provide what has been requested, but he can't ramble.

Self-destructLast Friday at 12:12 AM

A young attendant approaches with decisive steps. She's been making the rounds; marching to each inhabited gate with her tight hairdo and a mandatory neckerchief. "Hi," It's not really a greeting and she hasn't really stopped. She has paused. The tips of her shoes remain pointed towards the path ahead. "I'm sorry but, all flights have been cancelled due to the storm. The airport will be closing shortly."

Self-destructLast Friday at 12:30 AM

She waits for questions, maybe for a tantrum. When neither patron complies, she opts to provide the answers most passengers want. "Go ahead and hold on to your tickets. They will be replaced, free of charge. If you need a place to sleep, I'd recommend The Ribbon Hotel on fourth and Saint." She absently points East. "If you keep your receipt, you'll receive a refund for your stay, alright?"

Self-destructLast Friday at 7:34 AM

"Yes." Heero answers like he's been given an order. His gumption seems to satisfy because their informant nods, apologizes again and moves on. Are they the last stragglers? It seems so, from where Heero is sitting. He stands, but doesn't depart. Trowa will find himself the victim of a downward glance thats a little too expectant and lasts a little too long.

Self-destructLast Friday at 7:52 AM

"Let's go."

heavycharmsLast Sunday at 12:40 PM

Trowa looks up, not hesitantly, but still slowly, as if he's pulled back into reality. He's not at all surprised by the attendant's announcement, he had expected it really, but he had also anticipated spending the night curled up in one of the airport's many seating areas.

He blinks, then nods at Heero, for lack of better options. It feels like a slow pull to get himself up, then an even slower pull to grab his duffel from under the chair and sling it on his good shoulder. To the average passerby (not that there was any), his motions probably wouldn't show any difference. He's far though, from his usual languid self.

"All right."

Self-destructLast Sunday at 7:41 PM

"Wow." Trowa's battered travel bag inspires some interest. Heero's eyes follow its slow ascent from floor-to-shoulder. "All your worldly possessions in there, Trowa?" Gentle mockery; because it doesn't look full at all. Because, he assumes the nomadic nature of his comrade doesn't allow for belongings beyond necessity.

Self-destructLast Sunday at 7:58 PM

They navigate the empty airport without discussion; side by side and steps aligned. Maybe it's Heero's doing. His march seems slower than remembered. The somber pilot takes a final drink from his paper coffee cup before throwing it down the black maw of a garbage can. The exit draws no apprehension, even though its glass doors showcase a night colder than the depths of outer space.

heavycharmsLast Sunday at 8:03 PM

"More or less," Trowa responds, with a quick show of amusement.

He does tend to travel light, though he supposes things have gotten left behind from time to time. There must be an article of clothing of his left in a bedroom somewhere. He gets Heero's amusement.

Trowa follows the other man until they exit the airport into the unforgiving mist of the storm. Their breath is in their air, and it only takes a couple steps until a dusting of snowflakes coat both of their hair. Trowa glances up at the sky than back to Heero with a shrug.

"You really going to that hotel?"

Self-destructLast Sunday at 10:46 PM

"That's the plan." His ill-suited tie flutters away from his chest. It seems determined to fly back to the airport. At the very least, the formal strip of fabric looks like it wants to hide behind Heero, just out of the blizzards trajectory. It's owner is undeterred. He moves forward. Trowa's glance is humored, though his companion is forced to blink repeatedly against a barrage of snowflakes. "-isn't it?"

heavycharmsLast Monday at 10:42 AM

From the way Heero speaks, Trowa realizes his plan includes both of them. His sideways glance morphs into a raise of one brow and a careful shrug.

"Begrudgingly," he says, trudging through the snow still. "And against my will."

Not that Trowa has any particular qualms about free lodging. Just that he lately finds himself longing for warmer weather. He shrugs again, this time with the smallest of frowns.

"If we're going to go, we should go then."

Self-destructLast Monday at 10:51 AM

"Noted." Heero has always been a man of few words. To be a man of more would probably result in offense. He continues to trudge towards the nearest hotel. It had seemed to him, an obvious destination. He hadn't realized until Trowa's suggestion that he'd left his comrade behind - at least, in thought.

Was it so strange-?

To want an ally in the same bed-?

But then, he hadn't come to such a comfortable conclusion beside Trowa. He'd reached it with Duo. And Heero should know by now that Maxwell's 'normal' is a poor substitute for the real thing. He recognizes this privately while watching the other shrug.

Snow claws it's way up his pant legs only to crumble over the tops of his shoes - low and polished. They don't protect his business socks and the colder his loafers get, the staler they seem to become. By the time he's reached the hotel, his ankles have been gnawed raw.

Self-destructLast Monday at 11:11 AM

It's warm and tacky inside The Ribbon Hotel. Commercial colors line the lobby and frame the check-in desk. On the far wall, there is a modern painting of a wrapped package- no doubt a play on the facility's title. This won't be an expensive stay - probably. Heero approaches the reservation counter to procure a room.

heavycharmsLast Monday at 6:30 PM

Trowa stays back while Heero marches up to the counter, lingering somewhere near the door. He hardly thinks both of them are needed, and knowing Heero, the process will be a short one anyways.

Left to his own devices, his eyes scan over the cheap manufactured artwork of the lobby, finding nothing of particular interest. He ignores the pointed glance the other desk clerk gives him, and instead gives the illusion of turning his back to her to look at something on the wall. In reality, he has both employees and Heero still in his sights. The moment Heero is done, he'll turn back to them.

Self-destructYesterday at 1:02 AM

The clerk behind the counter attempts to appease with a professional smile. Her guest is impervious. She signals 'one moment' and drops her attention to the hotel's primitive computer. Everything she's entering is false. Heero doesn't need to cover his tracks anymore, but he still does. Maybe out of habit. Maybe he just enjoys lying to strangers. He waits with one arm on the countertop. It lays flat, from elbow to wrist, barring his chest from the hostess. His hand dangles carelessly off the counter's edge in a way that Trowa's presently cant.

Self-destructYesterday at 1:21 AM

He casually looks back at his broken accomplice. No one is ever complimented beneath florescent airport lighting, but the warm glow of their Hotel hasn't improved Trowa's appearance. He looks like a transient- probably has qualified for the lifestyle several times, but he's never embodied it as well as tonight. Heero remains locked on that observation as the reservation agent announces success. The expression on his face is slight, but resembles someone who's just brought home a stray cat and expects it to eat. It doesn't change as he beckons Trowa to leave the lobby.

Self-destructYesterday at 5:20 AM

It's a short walk to their room. Heero doesn't offer to carry the other's luggage, but he does ask if it's heavy and he does hold the door when they arrive. It's cramped, as all cheap hotel entries are. A collection of hangers to the left, a bathroom to the right. The scent of cigarette smoke lingers with them as Heero turns to lockup. "It's a single. That's what they had."

heavycharmsYesterday at 7:40 PM

Somehow, in the grand scheme of the universe, Trowa really isn't surprised. It's like the plot of one of those cheesy daytime movies he'd struggle through while Cathy painted her nails on the couch. Still, he can't be ungrateful; not when it's warm and dry and out of the snow. He simply nods.

"Did you want me to take the floor?" He asks, crossing the room and stiffly depositing his bag on the room's lone chair.

Self-destructYesterday at 7:56 PM

"No." Heero slides free from his jacket. The snow that had speckled his lapels couldn't hold it's shape indoors. It's become water, hiding within a maze of thread and making it heavy. Heero pulls the sopping coat over a complimentary hanger while meandering towards the room's heating system. If he drapes it on the nearest chair, maybe it will be dry by morning...

"Been travelling alone a while?"

He doesn't face Trowa with this question. The edges of his back shift beneath his damp, white shirt as he ensures his suit is securely hung. Heero turns to regard his roommate only after he's satisfied. He loosens his tie while awaiting an answer. He tugs it back and forth with all the eagerness of a dog escaping it's leash. "You could stand a shower."

heavycharmsYesterday at 8:13 PM

"Not really," Trowa doesn't really care to explain. "But fine."

He shrugs with a lazy sort of complacency, passing by Heero with a few long strides, carefully peeling off his own wet jacket as he does so. Unlike Heero's coat, Trowa's own doesn't get the same respect, and instead is hastily dropped to the floor. His kicked off boots soon follow.

Self-destructYesterday at 8:19 PM

Further insistence echoes behind him. "-You could stand some care." An elaboration, brought on by Trowa's immediate (and somewhat painful) effort to comply. Heero has been passed, but the distance between them is slight. "Cant be easy, getting in and out of sleeves with a broken wing. Has to hurt...about as much as those shrugs."

One step,

Then a second,

Closing the gap with just enough hesitance to communicate respect.

heavycharmsYesterday at 8:40 PM

"I've had worse," Trowa says neutrally, gaze directed just off kilter from Heero, jaw tense. It's not quite a refusal, but definitely a warning to tread carefully. Wounded animals are the most dangerous, after all.

Not really giving Heero the chance to intervene, Trowa starts to strip off his shirt, regardless of splint, or any feelings of pain.

Self-destructYesterday at 8:47 PM

"...didn't say you hadn't."

Heero is persistent. Not in an entirely soft way, but in a quiet way. His hands arrive like water and consume work as a tide consumes sand. They take over with a nimbleness that Trowa's single extremity can't exhibit. At first, its a soft tug against his collar. Afterwards, the give of his 'good' sleeve is tested. Heero assess the situation before orbiting to stand ahead of his ally.

Self-destructYesterday at 8:56 PM

He's never been as tall as Trowa. Both hands must journey up to unfasten the sling over his comrades shoulder. Heero habitually frowns while working. He's slow to complete his goal because he is determined to have one palm beneath the other's elbow before support drops. "More than a sprang." he murmurs, "It's more than just your arm."

heavycharms11/17/2018

Trowa's position isn't so much a facade, as an earnest bid at sleep, and against all odds, he finds himself drifting off with relative ease. (Maybe it's the exhaustion.) His restfulness is short-lived, however.

Under normal circumstances, he could be called a decent bedmate; motionless, and compact, curling in on himself to take up as little of the space as possible. Tonight though, his body doesn't seem to want to cooperate, and he finds tossing and turning until he finally wakes up just before dawn, half on the floor.

The sigh that escapes his lips is too quiet to be called audible, but Trowa still assumes Heero is awake in some capacity. A pin drop would probably be sufficient to rouse the other pilot in his hyper vigilance, and Trowa's fairly certain he's kicked him at least once during the night. He doesn't address it though, instead opts to slide himself fully out of bed in a motion that would be stealth enough for most other people. (Even if there's no hope for Heero Yuy).

His intentions to relocate peacefully though, don't go according to plan. As soon as Trowa is upright, he's met with a reeling sense of vertigo, one dizzying enough he has to brace a hand back on the bed to stand.

This is new. And unpleasant, and Trowa scowls in frustration. His only option though, seems to be to unceremoniously sit himself back on the edge of the bed, and hope the moment passes. Another attempt to rise would undoubtedly be met with the floor.

Self-construct11/19/2018

"Are you going to pass out." Heero serenely turns from his side to his back. The dark yields as much information about his thoughts as a clear view of his face would. "You move like you're going to pass out."

Self-construct11/19/2018

His voice doesn't hold the heaviness of interrupted sleep. Heero sounds awake... Because Heero has been awake all night. He's made no effort during his stiff impression of a restful person to utilize the blankets and tolerates his pillow like a wooden plank propped against a mound of dirt.

heavycharms11/19/2018

"No. I just got up too fast," Trowa says, graveled and lethargic.

He has to resist the urge to put his head between his knees, only because he thinks it'll do more harm than good. The last thing he needs, in an attempt to get his bearings, is to further aggravate his shoulder. Sitting seems to have alleviate that possibility, but now, it leaves him with a lack of options in what to do.

Very carefully, he looks over his shoulder at Heero, subtly studying him even as he casually says:

"Seems like the snow has stopped."

\- OOC

Self-construct11/19/2018

Im just getting Duo to work.

heavycharms11/19/2018

lol k

Self-construct11/19/2018

Duo. Doesnt get out of bed well.

Getting out of bed is...pretty much the worst thing you can do to Duo.

But, Im hoping to sit down and write a bit with you this evening. After.

heavycharms11/19/2018

damn your vampire lifestyle lol

Self-construct11/19/2018

Tell me about it.

Ok. Hes sitting up now...

heavycharms11/19/2018

The lure of toast was too strong, I suppose

Self-construct11/19/2018

Get your ass over here and help me.

heavycharms11/19/2018

LOLOL

You made your bed, so to speak

Self-construct11/19/2018

I've never made a bed in my damn life.

If I did, hed just mess it up

Oh god. Hes left the sheets.

heavycharms11/19/2018

I have the mental image of him just rolling onto the floor and continuing to sleep

face down

tbh

Self-construct11/19/2018

dont jinx this.

heavycharms11/19/2018

if i were there

I'd just lie down next to him in solidarity

IC

Self-construct11/20/2018

Back to his side and then further, Heero capsizes from the bed to his feet. He straightens against darkness while plodding towards the restroom. The hiss of running water offers an explanation for his absence. It fills one of the room's cheap, plastic cups and the sound of this accomplishment is equally distinctive. When Heero returns, it's to Trowa's side of the bed. The drink he offers is dripping. A little runoff trickles down to meet any fingers that should accept it's frigid weight.

Self-construct11/20/2018

"Yeah, seems that way." He responds mildly while turning his attention to the window. The snow was comforting to watch. It faintly resembled stars. Now, there is nothing but blackness beyond the window. Some distant, streetlight reaches Heero's face. It's wasted most of it's strength on the adjacent wall and so, barely glows over his more prominent features. Trowa is harder to touch. The light can barely catch his sluggish movements, but those don't need to be seen. They can be heard in his breath.

heavycharms11/20/2018

Trowa's gaze bounces from the floor to Heero to the cup, before he accepts it with a murmured thanks. The runoff from the cup slides over his hand and he brings it to his lips, and he has enough irony in him to think 'it doesn't seem so cold...' which in hindsight, is probably not such a good thing.

It's hard to swallow, like the water is too heavy, but Trowa forces himself to down the majority of the cup before placing the excess down on the side table. It's only then he dares to glance at Heero, though his focus stops somewhere around the other man's knees.

"Are you leaving then? It's morning."

Self-construct11/20/2018

"I should." But there's no promise in that. He remains near the bed, observing his bedmate in spite of dim light. Dawn is on the way. He'll have time to decide until the room warms with shades of pink. Heero reclaims the cup as he waits. He absently tilts it back and forth to assess how much water was taken. "I've never been sick. There's a definite smell to it."

heavycharms11/20/2018

Trowa barks a laugh; harsh and short, and soon degrading into a muffled cough. Even hazy and unfocused he lifts his head to Heero and arches one brow.

"Really."

His sarcastic amusement is never clarified before he pushes himself to his feet. With an acrobat's skill, he barely wobbles as he shuffles himself towards the bathroom.

Self-construct11/20/2018

"Being broken isn't the same." Heero has a feeling that his past, self-induced-coma is the cause of that laugh, but he can't confirm it. He refers back to the scent of sickness, feeling it's an appropriate topic for small talk. "Something in the sweat. A sour smell." Trowa is trying to reclaim his grace, but he's failing. His steps are uneven and his unsteady sway only highlights his scarecrow build. "Maybe that's why I wanted you to shower-" No segue. "-you're going to fall."

heavycharms11/20/2018

"I'm going to shower," Trowa says, defiantly and determined. He continues his slow trek to the bathroom. If he falls, so be it, maybe he'll sleep where he lands.

Self-construct11/20/2018

Something goes wrong. The carpet feels like it's rising. The room becomes a carousel of pastel colors. Morning has arrived and with it, a pair of study arms that impede Trowa's path to the ground. Heero supports the other like an inanimate object would. He's present and efficient, but not gentle.

"You're hot."

OOC

Self-construct11/20/2018

((Duo's making dinner.))

heavycharms11/20/2018

(( :|a ? ))

Onions?

Self-construct11/20/2018

Chicken teacup salad.

Or something.

heavycharms11/20/2018

That raises more questions than it answers

IC


End file.
